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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736862">I'm Sweet Sugar Spice (And I'm Not Very Nice)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud'>haloud</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn'>MayGlenn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunnilingus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Let's pretend that shoddy breakup didn't happen, Maria DeLuca Deserves Nice Things, Michael Guerin Deserves Nice Things, Mutually supportive partners is a kink, Post-Season-2-ish, Riding Crops, Taking care of Maria DeLuca, Taking care of Michael Guerin, They are both nice for each other, and so is Pegging</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:08:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28736862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria’s laugh began as a release of tension, a little manic, but by the time Michael had crossed the room to her it became a laugh she needed, a tired, grateful belly-laugh. He put his arms on her shoulders and she leaned into him, arms going around his waist. </p><p>"I thought we said you gotta stop showing up for me like this, Guerin."</p><p>"Actually, no. You said that."</p><p>(Alternating chapters full of sweetness and "spicy" smut between Michael and Maria, set in a nebulous well-adjusted future with no badly shoehorned-in breakups.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maria DeLuca/Michael Guerin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sweet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from "Sweet Sugar Spice" by Amsi</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maria DeLuca had had a long day. She had been run off her designer footwear all night at the bar—on a randomly busy Wednesday, thanks to Wyatt Long celebrating a birthday with all his shithead friends—and tomorrow was Thirsty Thursday and all she wanted to do was veg out on her couch for the next 24 hours. She was really going to have to consider closing down Mondays, or hiring more reliable help, or something. She wasn’t even 30 yet and her whole body had no business hurting like this. </p><p>She had ignored Guerin’s several calls and hadn’t checked her texts or voicemails: she was too tired to deal even with him. He didn’t deserve the mood she was in, honestly. No one did. So she was going to go home, eat a spoonful of peanut butter for dinner, feel guilty about not calling her mom, and go to bed with the TV on. </p><p>Maria arrived to find her front door <em> unlocked </em>. </p><p>“Shit God damn it,” she swore. How had she forgotten to lock? She hesitated opening the door, afraid of what she might find behind it. A break-in? Jesus, that was all she needed. Maybe she <em> should </em>call Michael…</p><p>She pressed her ear to the door but didn’t hear anything, so she took a deep breath, tightened her hand on the mace dangling from her keys, and nudged the door open.</p><p>Inside, she could hear something, but it was nothing like what she might have expected. The sound of cooking, and humming in a voice she recognized, and she stuck her head around the corner to the kitchen to see, sure enough, a familiar curly head, and the rest of him as well.</p><p>“<em> Guerin? </em>”</p><p>“Shit, fuck!” he yelped, jumping, almost dropping the mixing bowl floating near his head, but he lunged and caught it with his hands.</p><p>“Maria!” he said, turning to her with a grin. “Hey. Welcome home.”</p><p>“Michael!” she said again, wondering if she was going crazy like her mother, because this wasn’t computing. “What—what are you doing? Did you <em> break in </em>?”</p><p>“Only a little,” Michael said, then his smile slid a little. “I called and left a voicemail saying I was coming over. And texted. But, shit, I’m sorry—I scared you—fuck. I’m sorry, Maria. I just wanted to surprise you ‘cause work sucks.”</p><p>Maria’s laugh began as a release of tension, a little manic, but by the time Michael had crossed the room to her it became a laugh she needed, a tired, grateful belly-laugh. He put his arms on her shoulders and she leaned into him, arms going around his waist. </p><p>"I thought we said you gotta stop showing up for me like this, Guerin."</p><p>"Actually, no. You said that."</p><p>Maria pulled back to get a good look at him, gave him an appraising look. He didn't often stick up for himself, but it would be just like him to do so on a point of being selfless. She jabbed him in a kidney with a sharp poke. "Let me at least give you a key. No more breaking in."</p><p>“It’ll be hard for me to give up my career in cat burglary, but I’ll do it for you, baby,” Michael said, earning himself another jab to the kidneys, which he dodged easily, snickering all the while. “Go ahead, sit down—get off your feet, okay? I’ll be there in a sec.”</p><p>“Don’t lie to me,” Maria teased, though in response to which statement even she wasn’t sure. She sat down at the kitchen table, slipping her shoes off and just leaving them under there. She actually looked around the place, worried it would be filthy, but somehow it looked...tidier than she left it. Her eyes flicked to Michael, who moved confidently about the kitchen like he knew that was among her top five kinks. “Did you...<em> clean </em>?” </p><p>Michael shrugged. “Just picked up a little bit. I didn’t put anything anywhere weird you won’t find it again, no worries. It wasn’t bad or anything. You spend all day wiping down bars and doing dishes, you should come home to a clean house. Here, taste this.” </p><p>He leaned over the table to offer her a spoonful of sauce.</p><p>“I—” Maria began, floored by this behavior, almost enough that she wondered if the sauce was drugged or something. Her lips closed about the spoon. It smelled good, and tasted even better. Michael “Junkyard Cat” Guerin was not only housetrained, and, like, a good cook, but also—actively considerate? What the actual hell? </p><p>She realized very suddenly how completely she had misjudged him, and felt terrible. There was this wonderful part of Michael Guerin that she had been complicit in burying beneath jokes and good old classism. He was a white boy, why couldn’t he figure it out? she had thought her whole life. </p><p>“That’s...really good, Michael,” she said, voice going tender. She almost wasn’t sure how to talk to him if she wasn’t negging him, how’s that for nice? “And, ah, thank you for, um. Sorry, it’s been a long day. I should have picked up your call.” </p><p>“Eh, I figured you just didn’t hear it. I usually don’t if I’m at work. You’ll have to train me how to time it to your breaks,” he said, heading back to the stove to dish things up. He handed her her plate first, then sat across from her and propped his chin on his hand. He looked sleepy but content, and the smile stayed on his face as she started to eat.</p><p>"Ah, it's hit or miss," she said. "Texting is good, unless it's Wyatt Long's birthday night, and then I just don't want to talk to anyone...oh my God, Michael this is so good! What's in it? Is this rattlesnake or coyote?"</p><p>She winked playfully. </p><p>“Oh, jackalope for sure,” he replied.</p><p>But then he grew serious. He said, “I hope this isn’t, uh, weird. Apart from the breaking in part. I just—I dunno. Felt the need to take care of you. Is that too much? Clingy?”</p><p>"No," she said automatically, and then paused, put her fork down, and reached across the table to take his hand, the one he usually covered with a bandana but didn't right now. "I...sorta thought it would be. That's why I didn't answer your texts, I—I'm still figuring you out, Guerin. I think you're going to be a handful and I'm too tired for that and then you, um. You're there to lean on, instead. You're just what I need. And it's completely horrible of me that I'm surprised by that. I'm sorry."</p><p>Michael lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’m still figuring you out too, DeLuca.”</p><p>They finished eating in silence, then Michael cleared the table, started the dishwasher, and leaned against the counter. Maria watched him, her eyes probably forming into little hearts. </p><p>“I thought I might, I dunno, give you a foot rub or something. But everything I know about domestic bliss I learned from, like, daytime Hallmark movie reruns, so...if you’ve got any suggestions, hit me up.”</p><p>“I mean, you just cooked for me and cleaned up. You know that’s better than sex, right?” </p><p>Maria finally stood up and sauntered over to Michael until she took him in her arms, and then she kissed him, with purpose. </p><p>“Look,” she said when they parted. “I’m not sure I can let you be any nicer to me tonight. It just makes me feel guilty. And I’m definitely too tired for sex, so if this was all just an elaborate ploy to get laid, you’re out of luck—” she winked, “so why don’t we just Netflix and chill, but <em> literally</em>?” </p><p>Maria ran her hands up and down Michael’s sides, feeling how he leaned into her touch, like a big dog. She slid her hands under his shirt and scratched his back. “You can tell me about your day and I can bitch about mine?” </p><p>He made a sound that was almost a moan and wrapped his arms around her. “Mm, sounds good. As long as it’s not that Vanessa Hudgens Christmas movie again.”</p><p>They made it over to the couch, and when they were situated, her on his lap with his chin tucked over her shoulder, he spoke again. “Just so you know, I <em> like </em>taking care of people. Of you. Don’t get a lot of opportunity to, and, uh, sometimes I don’t try because I know people don’t expect it of me, so it’s easier not to. But I want to. More often. Make people think otherwise, yeah? Macho cowboy swagger seems kind of last year.”</p><p>“I believe it,” Maria said. “People expect me to be the party friend always, and sometimes it’s nice to be anything else.” </p><p>She squirmed on his lap until she was more comfortable, and unbuckled his belt to get the hideous belt buckle to stop digging into her hip. “You’re wonderful at it, you know. Nurturing. It’s...it’s probably not fair that you didn’t get much chance to be. I’m sorry I misread you. I, uh, don’t do that very often.” </p><p>“Mm.” He stuck his nose into the crook of her neck and nuzzled her. “I kinda like catching you off guard, DeLuca.”</p><p>"Don't get used to it," Maria said, seriously considering falling asleep on top of him just like this, make up still on and everything. That was about right, for them, she supposed. "Won't happen again."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Spicy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael fell against the mattress and bounced when he landed, humming happily as Maria crawled on top of him. He loved to feel her weight pressing him down, and he looped his arm around her waist to pull her even tighter against him.</p><p>“Yeah? You like it when I’m on top?” she teased, making her voice all husky, but he responded with total seriousness, pressing their foreheads together.</p><p>“You know I do,” he said, then lightened the mood by hooking his leg around the backs of her thighs and saying, “I like you on top in every way. And a few more you haven’t figured out yet.”</p><p>"Oho, there's moves I haven't figured out yet? You think I'm just a mild-mannered bartender, huh? Like I don’t hear things?" Maria hummed, scraping her teeth along his jaw just to see how he arched and gasped for it. </p><p>“Mm, you gonna prove me wrong, DeLuca?” </p><p>He shifted underneath her, rocking his hips against her stomach, humming when she directed her teeth to his throat instead.</p><p>“I wouldn’t want to scare you off. Unsuspecting drifter like yourself who’s just here for a warm place to sleep,” she teased, winking so Michael would know she knew better, even if he was still insecure about his place in her life sometimes. “Maybe I’ll use my psychic powers to make you into my brainless love slave. That’s a fun one at parties.” </p><p>“Baby, I’m already your brainless love slave all on my own,” Michael crooned.</p><p>Maria laughed, pressing his face into a fish-face before kissing him again. “You do take orders very well...but I don’t think you’re ready for me to really fuck you.” </p><p>“Oh yeah? Gotta tell you, I ain’t ever had a complaint about how good I take it. I come with references.” He waggled his eyebrows.</p><p>Maria snorted. <em> Yeah, let me just call Alex up and check on those, </em>she thought, but didn’t say. </p><p>“I ain’t interested in your references, boy. I’m interested in <em> marketable skills </em>.” With that, she sat up, one hand still splayed on Michael’s chest, up by his throat to keep him pinned, and began wrestling his jeans open and off. </p><p>Even pinned by his throat he managed to help her, arching his back and moving his hips to work his jeans down to his knees, spreading his legs as much as he could all tangled up in fabric, giving her all the room she could ask for without her having to say a word. He <em> could </em>be good—he could be the best, at this. He’d show her.</p><p>Unlike with most men, Maria found that Michael’s natural musk smelled good. She didn’t have to let him air out once she got his pants off before she wanted anything to do with him, he was just already ready, smelling like petrichor and sweet bourbon, whole body good to look at and moving just right, unashamed of any part of himself. “There’s a good boy. But I already know you can take direction.” </p><p>She bypassed his cock completely, sliding her fingers around his balls and lower. “I’m interested in how well you take...other things.” </p><p>“Sure, you can take me for a test drive,” he purred. “Gonna give me a slow ride? It’s been a little while.”</p><p>“Grandma slow,” Maria said, leaning down to kiss him as her fingers teased his rim. Already he had half-called her bluff. Guys usually panicked when you got near their assholes—well, straight guys did, anyway. She usually had to coax them to this point that Michael just started at. “But I admire your enthusiasm.” </p><p>She massaged him gently, until Michael started rocking into it, and then traced her fingers up over her thigh, taking away that stimulation he craved. “But first you gotta do something for me.” </p><p>She was already rubbing herself off on his thigh, and there was no earthly reason she should be doing this herself. </p><p>“Anything,” Michael breathed, giving her that sweet, dopey-eyed look that was so natural and at home on his face, entirely too sincere for the moment.</p><p>"Make me come," she instructed, sitting on his chest now,  "however you like. Then we'll see." </p><p>It shouldn’t have surprised her at all when he tugged her farther forward to apply his tongue to the task. He curled his hands around her thighs to hold her in place but not to hold her down, so she could grind down against him at her pleasure, and he moaned whenever she did, licking eagerly inside her, shivering whenever she raked her nails through his hair.</p><p>"Oh, yeah," Maria purred, rocked her hips into the motion of his tongue, getting his nose and chin sloppy. Someday she was going to roll over and let him be on top for this...but she still liked controlling him too much now. He was good at this, at warming her up, and at finishing her off. Maria had never faked an orgasm for any man, but she usually helped them in ways she never had to with Michael. </p><p>"Ah, fuck, good boy," she said, finally crawling off of him, laying against the headboard, running her fingers through his hair. "So good, Michael. Definitely—good." </p><p>He practically glowed at the praise, wiping his face off on his own discarded shirt and tossing it away before crawling over to kiss and nuzzle his way up her body.</p><p>“So how’d I do, then? Earn my reward?” he teased.</p><p>"Oh, yes." Maria giggled, also undressing fully, until they were both naked in bed together, kissing and curling up in each other's limbs. When she caught her breath and found her hands wandering down to his dick, she gave him a few strokes, getting her wrist into it. "I need you to reach under the bed, get me the box that's down there."</p><p>He didn’t even move, as comfortable as he was, just using his brain to retrieve the box, dropping it on the bed beside her.</p><p>“A present for me? You shouldn’t have.”</p><p>"Hah, if used counts," Maria said, beaming at the display of Michael's powers, nearly clapping at how amazing it was. How did a superhero who could move things with his brain get so good at oral? How had he been still single? Maria still felt like she was getting away with murder scoring him as her boyfriend. And against her better judgment, she was going to make sure he didn't forget it. "Why don't you find a dildo in there for me to fuck you with, handsome?"</p><p>“Didn’t know you were a walking sex toy emporium, DeLuca, aren’t you just full of surprises,” he said, opening the box. He swallowed at the range of things she had on tap, though he tried not to make his reaction too apparent, and picked a medium-sized dildo out of the ones that had more interesting shapes and textures, just as a warmup.</p><p>"Conservative but ambitious. Good choice," Maria commented, grinning. "You know I don't have a proper strap on, so we'll just have to pretend."</p><p>Still kissing Michael, she rolled him onto his side, turning just his shoulders towards her so she could still kiss him. Being so much smaller than Michael, an actual strap on wouldn't allow her to kiss him this much, so she rather liked it, and the fact that she could get an arm around his shoulders like this and kind of support his head. She tossed him two condoms and the dildo for him to suit up, and then had him smear the lube on her fingers, ready with the bottle when she needed more. </p><p>For a long time she just teased his entrance and kissed him. Michael pulled one knee up to his chest, an old hand at this, his way of begging when he was ready. She moaned, pleased with him. "Good boy," she whispered, and slipped one finger in. </p><p>“<em>Mmmm.”  </em></p><p>Michael breathed out slowly, a loose smile flooding his face. It wasn’t much of a stretch, her skinny finger, but it was still <em> something, </em> something he was very much in the mood for, and his heart skipped happily that this was something he was doing with <em> her </em>for the first time.</p><p>“Already on my back for you and you’re still sweet-talkin’ me,” he murmured, opening his eyes to slits to watch her.</p><p>Maria huffed. “That’s such a dude way to think about it, that you only have to talk sweet up until the moment someone rolls over. That’s when things <em> get started</em>, Michael.” </p><p>She kissed his nose, sliding her finger in and out of him, just teasing him, still. “Isn’t it nice to know you’re a good boy <em> and </em>still have room to grow?” </p><p>Michael actually moaned at that—at her words, and not because she crooked her finger searching for his prostate and found it, rolling the pad of her finger against that sensitive spot. He also let the happy shivers carry him and didn’t even think about how he only stopped expecting sweet talk based on past experience. One night stands with tourists, just hoping to feel something, would do that to you. </p><p>“<em>Maria… </em>”</p><p>“I know, I should probably trim my fingernails. But then everyone would know what we get up to,” Maria purred, adding a second finger. “Would you like that? If everyone could take one look at us and think, ‘Yeah, she totally pegs him and he begs for it’? Touch yourself for me, handsome, as much as you want, but you don’t get to come until I say.” </p><p>“Nn, yes, I—<em> nnh,” </em>Michael cut off with a grunt, “Don’t care if everyone knows, I love it, I—”</p><p>He slid his hand down his body to stroke his cock, firm and slow so he didn’t get too wound up to fast, wanting it to last every bit as long as Maria wanted to give him.</p><p>“You’re <em> pretty</em>,” she said, breath hot on his neck, teething along his ears. “Pretty boy. And you smell so good. You sound good. Makes me wanna fuck you all the time.” She held out her fingertips. “More lube.” </p><p>Michael slapped the bed a few times before he landed on the lube, making a mess when he coated her fingers with it. If he got her slick enough, maybe she’d give him more fingers, make it go faster.</p><p>“Want you to fuck me all the time,” he gasped, writhing his hips the next time she rubbed his prostate, back arching off the bed in a wanton bow.</p><p>“Yeah, well, you make a compelling argument,” Maria said, sinking three fingers into him right away. She can feel him shaking, little helpless movements, as she tortures his prostate. “You better lube that dildo up for me good, pretty boy, or this next part won’t be very fun.” </p><p>“Unhh, nnng…”</p><p>He briefly considered sliding the dildo down his throat to lube it up, but aside from it being impractical, he probably shouldn’t pull out <em> all </em>his tricks right away. Gotta save some mystery. No, he lubed up the fake cock the normal way, sliding his hand down the shaft until it was fully coated, his own dick going neglected as he took care of this one.</p><p>“Good, good, baby, give it here,” Maria said, nearly making him drop the thing as she crooked  her fingers again. She laughed lightly as he actually fumbled, and took it from his slack fingers as she kissed his cheek. “Okay. Once I bottom out, you can make yourself come.” </p><p>Michael’s only response was to spread his legs wider.</p><p>But the moment it nudged up against his entrance, he bucked into it, couldn’t help himself, forcing it in an inch before she was ready. She’d stretched him well, but he still hissed at the feeling, then threw his arm over his eyes to hide.</p><p>“Unnnh, fuck.”</p><p>“Don’t hide from me,” she said, sliding her leg over the back of his legs as she pressed the toy into him. She shifted the arm under his shoulders to curl around his neck, pulling him into a savage kiss. “You’re mine, baby. And you’re so pretty for me like this. You take my dick so pretty. Let me see you come for me.” </p><p>Michael panted against her mouth whenever she stopped kissing him, brow furrowed, eyes fluttering as he gave himself over to pleasure. And once the toy reached as far into him as it could go, he followed orders, and with a hand wrapped around himself rapidly brought himself over the edge, head lolling back, moaning directly to the ceiling.</p><p>“Ahh-hhhh-ah—”</p><p>“Mm, yeah, yeah,” Maria said, and the way Michael threw his head back filled her with a sudden animal desire to<em> bite him </em>, so she did, marking him in the meat of his shoulder while she fucked him hard and rapidly with the dildo, her arm burning with exertion. The bite turned into a peppering of kisses as she brought him down, saying, “Good, good, good boy.” </p><p>Shuddering, Michael brushed his fingers across the red mark of her teeth, speechless at how it made him feel, claimed and wanted and secure and…</p><p>“Fuck, that was good,” he said, laughing off the ridiculous swell of emotion. “Shouldn’t have underestimated you.”</p><p>Maria laughed, pulling the dildo out and discarding the condoms before stretching out across his chest. She wiped her fingers off on Michael’s discarded shirt, but he kept extras here now, so that was okay. “I shouldn’t have underestimated <em> you </em>and how hot you are. When you’re ready, I’m definitely going to need another go.”  </p><p>“If you give me about fifteen minutes…” he drawled, shifting his hips. “So all that,” he nodded at the box, “And you don’t have a strap? Sounds like a shopping trip to me…”</p><p>“Ha! You wanna go to a sex shop with me? That’s a big step, Michael. I think we’ll have to do brunch with my mom, first,” Maria said. </p><p>The words <em> I am </em> not <em> introducing you to my mother </em> rang in her ears and soured her mood. “I know this isn’t great pillow talk, but would you? Want to meet my mom? You’ll probably have to introduce yourself a few times until it sticks, it’s okay if you don’t, like… But when she’s There, she’s really...I think I’d like you to meet her.” </p><p>“Oh, um.” </p><p>Those same words rang in Michael’s ears, too, but he didn’t want to make it...a thing. But also he did. </p><p>“If you want me to meet her, I want to meet her. I mean, I’ve <em> met </em> her. Went to my share of Ranchero Nights when I was livin’ out of my truck and all. But yeah, I—I want to <em> meet </em>her meet her. If you want me to. Yeah.”</p><p>He grimaced at his own babbling.</p><p>“Michael,” Maria said, kissing him. “I haven’t been fair to you, haven’t treated you like you deserve. Let me correct that. I do want you to meet my mom. It’s the next logical relationship step after we go sex toy shopping together.” </p><p>She winked. </p><p>Michael chewed his lip. It didn’t feel right, her saying she hadn’t been fair, when he wasn’t quite sure what <em> fair </em>was, having never really experienced it. From his perspective, he’d been a dick to her when she was being kind and wanted to try a relationship with him, so it made sense she’d want to go super slow after that. But he also had an inkling that digging his heels in on not deserving her apology would only cause a fight, so he didn’t say anything, just thumbed over her bite mark again.</p><p>“I can’t wait,” he purred, running a hand down her side.</p><p>“Good,” Maria said, spreading out over him like butter on warm bread. She filled in his every nook and cranny and he moved to make himself comfortable for her. And he was so warm, and smelled so good, she just wanted to touch him everywhere. “So you like the biting, huh? I think your oral fixation is rubbing off on me.” </p><p>Michael kissed her neck. “Yeah, I like the marks,” he said softly. The moment was close and vulnerable enough that he didn’t mind admitting it.</p><p>"Of course you do," she said mildly. "I should clearly leave them in more obvious places so you stop feeling the need to get into bar fights for bruises." Maria sat up on one elbow, her light tone belying the seriousness of her statement. "If I'm going to be demanding things from you, you can at least ask for what you need from me. I've got a pretty mean right hook if a brawl really gets you there."</p><p>Now she was teasing.</p><p>“Hey, I’ve done plenty of asking tonight. Plus, I like it when you <em> demand </em>things of me. It…” He chewed the inside of his lip for a second, and added, “makes me feel needed. It’s good.”</p><p>"I do need you," Maria said, nodding and smiling, almost laughing again. She'd had guys in bed who were comedians, so laughing at something funny in bed was nothing new, but laughing at something in pure delight was completely new to her. She hugged Michael, tucking her cool fingers and toes under his warm body, and bit his chin playfully. "I definitely need you to fuck me."</p><p>“Oh yeah?” </p><p>He rolled them so he was braced over her with one hand, the other going to stroke himself hard again.</p><p>“Like this? Or you wanna get on top again? You can do all the work if you want to.”</p><p>"I definitely don't mind you doing all the work," she said, grabbing a condom and opening it with her teeth. When he rolled it on himself she got her fingers in his hair and kissed him, legs sliding up his sides. "I wouldn't be much of a Top if I didn't make you work for it, baby." </p><p>Michael grinned back, hooking a hand around her knee to pull her leg up higher, and with his other hand he reached down and ran one finger across her folds before sliding it inside of her. </p><p>“If you start making me call you <em> mistress </em>that might be a deal-breaker,” he teased.</p><p>Maria snorted loudly at that. "Well there goes all my fun!"</p><p>Then she tugged Michael into a kiss, letting him take his time with her. She definitely didn't need the warm-up, but she didn't want to skip this part, either (Michael was so good at all of it). </p><p>But Michael didn’t waste <em> too </em>much time. He loved foreplay, but the line between sex and foreplay was more than blurred at this point, so he just spent a few luxurious moments fingering her, gently enough to be a tease, that she dug her nails into him to spur him on, and then he was sliding inside her, moaning out loud, too far gone for shame.</p><p>“Fuck, yeah, Maria—”</p><p>"Oh, you like that, baby? You like that pussy, you're gonna work for it. Give it to me." She pulled Michael’s hair until she could bite his neck, both of them moaning as he picked up the pace. </p><p>He fucked her quick and steady, rubbing her clit at the same rhythm to bring her off, gasping every time a sweet nip of pain lit up his senses. He gave it to her as good as he could, until she was writhing and coming beneath him, him stroking her through it. His own orgasm could wait until she gave him permission; he <em> wanted </em> to wait, <em> had </em>to.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, yeah, uhhnnn,” Maria moaned, coming on his fingers and on his dick, and realizing belatedly that he was waiting for permission to come himself. That was a rush in and of itself, prolonging the aftershocks, and she moaned obscenely, raking her fingernails down his back. “Come on, come for me, baby, you’re good, know you love this pussy, come for me.” </p><p>It only took a few more thrusts for him to come, shuddering through it and biting out his groan close into her ear, and then he was rolling off of her, panting and laughing to the ceiling for a moment before using his powers to get rid of all the mess, used condoms and wrappers and the dildo, leaving the bed as clean as it could be with how sweaty and slick they both were.</p><p>“Maria,” he murmured, rolling in to her again. He liked cuddles after sex, sue him.</p><p>Maria sighed, cuddling him for just a bit before it was her turn to roll away and out of bed, kissing him to quiet him when he whined. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m going to clean up before bed! You just sit here and be cute for me until I get back.” </p><p>Slapping his ass once but soundly, Maria scrambled ungracefully out of bed. </p><p>She wasn’t long, just washing her face, brushing her teeth, and using the bathroom. She didn’t even deal with her hair, wanting to come back to Michael as quickly as possible, while both of them were still naked and Michael was still warm. </p><p>Once again following orders to perfection, Michael was <em> very </em> cute when she got back to bed, wrapping all the way around her, blazing hot against every inch of her cooled by the bedroom air. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her neck and let out a happy hum.</p><p>It took a long, quiet moment for him to say, “I love you,” hesitant like there might be a way for him to take it back if she reacted badly.</p><p>Maria wriggled back over so she could get her arms around Michael. She hitched her leg up over his and waited until he met her eye—it took a minute—before she said, “I love you, too, Michael.” </p><p>He smiled, then, face going utterly soft and smitten, and if there was a tiny flicker in his chest that urged him to not believe her unless he wanted to hurt when she’d had enough of him, he was willing and able to ignore it for now.</p><p>“Want me to make breakfast in the morning?” he said sleepily.</p><p>"Um, absolutely," Maria said, and shifted, slightly uncomfortable, and then said, with another laugh, "Roll over. I'm the top, I fuck my boyfriend, and I'm the big spoon."</p><p>She tucked her arm under his head and around his chest, the other tucked under his arm. She even slotted her knee between his legs, wondering if he was sore or sensitive (she was still tingling, vaguely) but wanting him to feel her there, anyway. </p><p>And Michael relaxed, just a tiny bit, with her holding onto him. “Just shove me over if you get too hot in the middle of the night, ‘s fine.”</p><p>“Okay,” Maria said, but held him the whole night like that, her nose pressed into the back of his neck where the scent of rainfall lingered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sweet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Michael paced from the door of his Airstream to Maria’s front door and back again, approximately his thirtieth trek on that path since he’d picked up Max’s call, running his hand through his hair yet again, messing it up even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not telling you to keep secrets from Maria or anyone,” Max repeated. “I just don’t want us jumping the gun on this one, okay? Until we figure out what to do with him or what he wants or why he was down there. Liz doesn’t know yet either—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Max, whatever,” Michael snapped, hanging up and jamming his phone into his pocket and stalking back across the yard to Maria’s door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated, though, with his hand above the doorknob, and he took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted was to go inside bleeding anger and freak her out. So he didn’t open the door until he’d settled down a little more, crammed his anger and frustration back into the tight ball in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria felt it, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d heard his truck coming up, and heard him talking on the phone through her windows, cracked open for a breeze. And when she focused on him, she could feel his anger. She understood it, knew it wasn’t directed at her, and was completely confident that he wouldn’t take it out on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had made breakfast for her that morning, and left for work happy. She had the night off, thanks to getting a new employee who was (supposedly) reliable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Max spends his time on the clock talking to my boyfriend, hm?” Maria said lightly as Michael came in. She was shoeless, dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt, having taken off her jeans and jewelry and bra when she had come in. The beans she had put on the stove this morning were simmering, and cornbread was in the oven, and she had curled up on the couch to fold laundry she hadn’t gotten to last night. “Come here and give me a kiss and I’ll chew him out for you later.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael flinched ever so slightly at the mention of Max’s name but did his best not to let it show, crossing the room to kiss her lightly. “Make sure to use the phrase ‘dereliction of duty.’ That’ll really get him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noted,” Maria chuckled, squeezing his arm. Michael was still obviously frothing, and she found herself worrying about him. This was bigger than a fight with his brother—they had been fighting for a decade, why would it upset him now?—and Maria kissed his hand, sweaty from the bandana he wore but not greasy from work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quiet lingered between them, as just her presence seemed to wear down his bad mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” she said. “Go clean up and grab us some beers, huh? I wanna talk to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>About what, she didn’t know yet, but he’d reveal it to her. She had the decency to wait until he turned around to take off the bracelet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That phrase, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wanna talk to you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>ratcheted his anxiety back up, but he swallowed it down again and went to scrub up and throw on a change of clothes, sweats and a t-shirt that was a little big on Maria but that he had been given permission to stretch out. This new anxiety was almost helpful, even, giving him something else to focus on and shoving the argument with Max to the back of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, until his phone rang twice while he was changing. He turned it off before it could ring a third time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back out in the living room, Michael dropped down onto the couch beside Maria with the beers as requested, taking care to avoid messing up any of her laundry. “What did you want to talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria crawled into Michael’s lap, pressing him down like a weighted blanket. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him right between his eyes. “I think, what did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to talk about, is the question. You okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shrugged, and with her in his lap, he couldn’t do anything but smile, even as his mind was a chaotic mess of doppelgangers and dread at the thought of keeping any secrets for any length of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he said was, “Y’know, Max is being Max again. None of his post-CrashCon stress has dissipated, and we don’t agree on how to handle it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria nodded, quite sympathetically for someone who didn’t have any siblings. They were getting to it, she thought, the root issue here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>stressed by CrashCon.” Max didn’t have a monopoly on that. They had all almost died that night, and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>who ended up in a hospital afterwards, Michael by her side and more worried about her than she was. And if Max thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>missed Liz, it didn’t hold a candle to how Maria missed her now she was in California. “How do you want to handle it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shrugged, unable to hold her eyes as she responded so kindly to what was half a lie. “Not Max’s way,” he said, evading the subject as much as he evaded her gaze. It didn’t matter what he thought, anyway. People would handle it without him until he fell in line anyway. That’s how these things worked, and probably for the best. Every time he tried to take things into his own hands—like with Isobel all those years ago—it just blew up all over everyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria raised a challenging eyebrow, but her fingers were petting the hair on the back of his neck and behind his ears. “Is this just sibling rivalry? You gotta help me out on this one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A wave of despair overtook Michael then. Hadn’t he already learned the consequences of keeping secrets from Maria? He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to keep this secret. Max was paranoid, untrusting of anyone who wasn’t family (anyone whose destruction wasn’t mutually assured), and maybe that was understandable considering the circumstances...but maybe it also meant he was emotionally compromised, and this wasn’t his call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only one thing stopped his tongue still—what if it was already too late? What if in keeping the secret just for a little while, he’d already ruined her trust in him, already ruined everything?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” he repeated, throat stopping up before anything else made it through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Michael,” Maria whispered, watching his face crumble in real time. She kissed away the slight nostril flare that signaled either fear or oncoming tears, and held his face in her hands as she looked him sternly in the eye. “You can tell me anything, you know, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shook his head helplessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you can...</span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me, too, if you need to. I trust you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t her fault, but being offered this now, being encouraged like this now...it was torture. After all his years of hiding, after all the times his identity as an alien or his sexuality were taken out of his hands, to have someone he loved right in front of him who wanted him to share himself, his secrets with her, and to know that the only thing holding him back was </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his own stupid inability to open his mouth and tell the truth…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he’d already gotten this far. Max was already going to be furious at him, and who knew what Isobel would think. He couldn’t get out of this conversation without hurting Maria, arousing suspicion, as the old familiar voice in the back of his head whispered again and again, ruined everything, ruined everything, ruined everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There it is,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maria thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I’m here for you, babe.” She gave him a little nod to go on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart pounding, he shut off his brain and opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not long after CrashCon, right after you got out of the hospital. Max felt a call in the desert. We followed it, and we found—someone. Another alien.” He took a deep breath. “And he looks like Max. I mean, not related, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>identical. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he’d been there for seventy years. My—my mom sealed him in a cave somehow. And we freed him. We’ve got him locked up at Max’s place now until we figure out what to do, been taking turns keeping an eye on him. Max wants to keep him a secret, is afraid of what could happen, but I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran out of steam all at once, the sound of his voice blocked out by the rush of blood in his ears. He still couldn’t look at Maria for fear of what he might see on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria blinked. "Another alien? Exactly like Max?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, and she settled more comfortably on his lap, pulling his arms around her. "That's...a lot, yeah. I mean, if your mother locked him away for a reason, it makes sense to keep him under, like, observation or whatever. It's not my call, though maybe as part-alien I can be a tie-breaker?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria turned to give Michael a little wink and then lifted his hand to kiss it again. "Just kidding, I won’t let Max know I know so he won’t get his panties in a twist. What else did you want to tell me? About...anything. I'm here to listen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael finally met her eyes, a little stunned at how...easy that was? It shouldn’t be. It was hard to trust how easy things were with Maria.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, easily, he spoke again. “I’m so fucking sick of fighting with Max. But I can’t keep secrets anymore. I don’t want to. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>People always find out, and I’m the dumbass with the rug yanked out from under me when I find out I never should have bothered hiding it in the first place because I suck at it so bad. Apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Maria frowned at that, and turned into him, getting both arms around his narrow middle, staring up at him. “Suck at what, lying? You know most people consider that to be a good thing. And I appreciate that you’re comfortable enough to tell me things—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she paused. That wasn’t quite right. “But I guess you always have been, right? It was just...keeping other people’s secrets? You deserve to be the one to choose who you tell what, when, Michael.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not always other people’s. Mine too. The alien stuff, the stuff about Rosa’s death, that was me, too. I’m not saying I haven’t been at ground fucking zero of all the nasty bullshit in our lives, but it still—sucks. When you spend your whole life begging the universe for people to listen, to understand, but when you find those people, you never get to say what you’ve been holding in forever. Max got to tell Liz about aliens on his own terms. Isobel got to come out to Max and me on her own terms. Saying it out loud sounds bratty as fuck, but I never got that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bratty, yeah, but also young and scared in a way that makes him want to scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria touched his face again, making him look at her. “That’s a perfectly reasonable thing to be angry about. Is Alex not allowed to be angry that his father and the military essentially kept him closeted? Is he not allowed to be angry that Kyle told everyone about him in high school, anyway?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it wasn’t best to mention Alex, she supposed, but he was at least someone whose struggles Michael didn’t discount. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it was Maria’s turn to look away. “I guess I should apologize. The reasons you didn’t tell me about...everything...were complicated. It was shitty to find out the way I did, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same, tried to hide it. I wish you had gotten a chance to tell me yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, hey,” he said, running one hand up her back to hold her tightly. “You have nothing to apologize for. You needed to know sooner. Most of my reason for not telling you was selfish. Not wanting you to look at me differently.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, now we both know better." She rested her head against Michael’s chest, soothed by his heartbeat. She huffed. “What would you have even said?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused, sighed. “I like to think I would have told you if I had any reason to think Mimi’s condition wasn’t dementia, but that might be giving myself too much credit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I doubt I would have believed you, then, without..." Maria waved a hand to indicate </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Feeling guilty, she slipped the bracelet back on. "I mean, more telling me about you. On your own terms."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael lifted her hand, kissed the skin of her wrist beneath the silver and glass beads, then repositioned them so they could lay together more comfortably, using his TK to safely shift her laundry to the coffee table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I probably would have started with that,” he waved his hand to indicate his telekinesis. “Best proof available, I guess. Would it have proved extraterrestrials to the psychic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria laughed. “I don’t know, maybe? I guess nothing short of...seeing Rosa alive did that.” She glanced up at him sadly. “She’s a teenager, still, you know. Dumb decisions. I’m glad she did it, told me, but please don’t be mad at her for taking that decision away from you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. Not any angrier than I am at Alex for figuring everything out on his own, too. None of that was really </span>
  <em>
    <span>about </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, y’know? It wasn’t done to hurt me. I’m just mad at...the universe. Because it happens every time. Like I’m the butt of a massive galactic joke or something just as melodramatic. Most of the time I take that anger out on Max for being the leader, but he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>the boss of me. I know that. But…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s safe to take your anger out on. That’s what I gather siblings are like, anyway. Or, siblings-by-circumstance. Whatever you are to each other.” Maria shrugged, and kissed Michael’s chin, staring up at him until he looked down at her. “Guess what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm...what?” He asked, obediently. Even as emotionally messed up as he was, just looking at her, holding her, made him smile anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I chose you. I’m choosing you, every day, to be part of my life. We’re not stuck together by outside forces or circumstances. We’re stuck together because I’m sticking with you. Because I want to be on your side.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That struck Michael speechless. He brushed a curl away from her face, thumb lingering on her cheek, trailing down to the corner of her mouth. Then he pulled her into a gentle kiss, shifting onto his back and pulling her on top of him so her weight pressed him into the couch cushions, present and comforting and safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria purred, settling on top of him, smirking, “How’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the timer for the cornbread went off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael groaned, arm tightening around her briefly. “Who needs food? Lemme just…” and he turned both the timer and the oven off with his brain, raising his eyebrows for her approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open the oven door so it won’t burn,” Maria instructed, laughing as she heard the oven door creak open. “See, that’s why I choose you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For my big awesome brain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your big awesome </span>
  <em>
    <span>somethin’</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Maria laughed, squawking when Michael started tickling her sides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she squirmed under his tickle assault, they swapped places so he was hovering over her on the couch, their noses millimeters from touching. “You’re gonna make a guy blush, DeLuca,” he murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>ego</span>
  </em>
  <span>, obviously,” Maria teased, panting a little as he kissed her neck. “Attitude. Rudeness.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She curled her legs around the backs of his and kissed him. “I mean it, you know,” she whispered. “I think my Mama will agree I made a good choice.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Spicy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We were shooting the breeze as you do in the RNM 18+ Discord and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythras_fire/">mythras_fire</a> phtoshopped the picture that inspired this spicy chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Maria sighed as she made it inside. Three hours out of her one day off this week to talk to Roswell’s Boomer Businessmen, and no backers on her latest idea. It wasn’t her fault CrashCon itself was a bust—the Pony had done great business that weekend—and, ugh. Whatever! She didn’t need them. She could always cave and ask...Isobel...for a loan. She had to shudder to even think that, but Isobel had a ton of money she was trying to figure out how to invest and she was practically family, and definitely not a Man or a Boomer, both categories she hated right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael was at her place again—his day off, too—</span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> reason she was annoyed that her pitch did nothing, because she had wasted a morning with Michael—and he was probably fixing something, judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael, I’m home!” she called, finding him in the kitchen as suspected, but not with a toolbox out and buried under the sink or something. No, he was on his hands and knees, wearing yellow gloves, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>scrubbing her baseboards</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Michael?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey!” He greeted her, sitting back on his heels and giving her a grin. “Welcome back. How’d the meeting go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grin slid a little bit as he took in her face and body language. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not great, I guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she sulked, but she couldn’t find it in her to be annoyed when Michael was...like this. “Uh, those baseboards haven’t been cleaned in…” Well, since her mom got sick, actually. Maria wasn’t as domestic as her mother and grandmother would have hoped she’d end up. “A while. Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem. I noticed they could use it while I was mopping, and, well…” he shrugged, holding up his gloved hands a little self-consciously. He was probably too into the whole home-making thing, and maybe that should be embarrassing, but here he was, and he wasn’t apologizing. “I’m sorry about your meeting. How can I make it better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re perfect just like this, baby,” she said, bending down to kiss him. She rested her elbows on his shoulders and hummed down at him, “Believe me, you’re already helping. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>seeing you on your knees…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warmth spread through Michael’s face and down into his chest as she loomed over him in that suit, in those heels, all dressed up and professional. “I like being on my knees,” he said, dumbly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria chuckled, low and a little filthy. “Well, you’re good at it. You stay right here and let me slip into something more comfortable…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” he said, licking his bottom lip. “I mean. That suit is…” he whistled low and leaned further back, spreading his knees a little bit to get more comfortable. “You could definitely keep it on and boss me around a little bit. Ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria’s eyebrows rose, and she lifted her chin a little to stare down her nose at him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oho</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someday Maria would stop being surprised when something that really turned her crank got Michael hot and bothered, too. Who else could be surprised by her boyfriend on his knees at home, discover she liked that, and then have him admit he liked </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>standing over him wearing a power suit? It made her feel bold enough to say, “Take those gloves off and get ready for me. I’ll be right back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kissed him again and headed down the hall to her room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Get ready for me’ was vague, as orders went, so Michael interpreted it by TK-ing his gloves into the sink, tousling his hair, and unbuttoning half the buttons on his shirt, exposing his chest. His heart was already pounding with excitement, blood beginning to fill his dick just at the anticipation. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed the squashy kitchen mat for his knees, then rearranged himself to wait for her on his knees again, spread even wider this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, aren’t you a handsome bastard,” Maria said, punctuating her words with a loud crack as she thwacked a riding crop so that it snapped the air. Michael jumped a little, hips-first, at the sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had changed into even higher heels—way too high and way too red for any reasonable office setting—than those she had walked in on: a little discomfort was worth the look on Michael’s face when he saw them. The incongruity of the heels and riding crop with the professional suit did something for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s time for your performance review, don’t you?” she said, winking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guessing I’ve earned myself a...corrective?” he drawled. He had to make sure not to leave his mouth hanging open so he didn’t start drooling at the sight of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria traced the riding crop over his thigh, up his chest to brush his cheek, and down to the other knee. He looked good like this, all glassy-eyed and unbuttoned, </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "That’s what we’re about to determine. Have you finished the baseboards?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He licked his lips again. “Almost. One side left. Might take about five minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, a little slower than I expected,” Maria replied, barely able to keep a straight face. She was a good boss, and could be a scary boss when she wanted (just ask Max), but it was hard to be anything but tender towards Michael. Still, she flicked the riding crop against the inside of his thigh, over his jeans, just to test. “And I think you missed a spot mopping the floor. You know there are consequences for such a thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(He didn’t actually miss a spot. She wasn’t even looking at the floor.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael gasped at the swat, though it was such a light thing he barely felt it, and spread his knees again, putting enough room between them now for her to stand there if she wanted to, lean over him close enough for him to put his face against her hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I don’t know the consequences,” he challenged, only a little breathless. “Maybe you’ve gotta tell me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you want a reminder, eh?” Maria asked, a smile pulling at both sides of her pretense at a stern glare. She giggled as she stepped between his legs, balancing her weight on one leg to rub the top of her shoe against the bulge in the left thigh of his jeans. Like this, she could grip a handful of his curls and press his face against her stomach while she reached over his back with the crop to swat his ass a few times. “You know, it’s not as much of a reminder with your pants up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his cheek against her stomach, almost kissing the waist of her slacks, arching his back a little to give her the best angle, head swirling with that heady mix of excitement and fear that he craved out of scenes like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that an order?” he asked, hand wandering over to the button of his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria waffled briefly, stroking his forehead with the back of a knuckle until she was sure he wanted an order. (He did, he ached for it.) "Yes, it is." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped back, to give him room and to take away her touch until he obeyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, hands going clumsy as he fumbled to get his pants unbuttoned and shoved down his thighs as far as they could go without him having to break his stance. Then he looked up at Maria, eyes hugely dilated, looking for approval.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria pursed her lips, pleased, oh, yes, pleased, he was as perfect for her as ever, but she always felt like he wanted her to go harder on him. So she did both, taking a half step closer and holding the crop under his chin. "Good boy. Say please?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arched up into the press of the crop even as he whined about it, quiet and behind his teeth. “Please,” he said, throat bobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it was again, the things he wanted most from her were the things she most wanted to give him. It was bewildering, impossible that this kept happening with her and Guerin, like maybe they were both mind readers, or else it was some kind of weird product of being a mind reader and a pathological people-pleaser, respectively, that meant they always wanted what the other wanted. She’d have to explore that, maybe, later, when she wasn't soaking through her panties at this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed the rest of the distance between them, pressing Guerin’s face to her again (letting him smell how wet she was) and letting him have just enough friction on her shoes as she reached over his back and smacked him a few times with the crop, more noise than sensation. "You feel like a good boy like this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael struggled a little bit to answer that. It was still hard, no matter how secure he became in their relationship, in his life, for him to take ownership of something like that instead of having it given to him. But Maria asked a question, so he would answer, even if all he could manage was a strangled “Uh-huh,” lost against the fabric of her suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know if you come on these shoes, I’m gonna make you clean them with a toothbrush,” she said, swatting him some more. “And every time we go out, we’re going to know, these are the shoes I made you come on just from spanking you…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From spanking him and from talking to him, voice husky and beautiful. He held himself still, so still, not even jumping when the crop nipped against his skin, though his thighs twitched with each swat, so he didn’t rub against her shoes too much and come before he was ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even have to come for this getup to get me going every time I see it from here on out…” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria ran her tongue over her teeth, her grin huge. She was just seeing his butt begin to turn pink when she couldn’t stand it anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, cowboy, I’m gonna need you to fuck me. Can you stand up?” she asked, already opening her pants, struggling with the too many buttons that held dress pants together, and flimsy little zipper.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cowboy, huh? Should I go get my hat and make this a different kinda roleplay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he spoke, he stood without question as much as if it had been an order—his head was so nice and swimmy that basically anything was an order, he was so eager to please. His legs wobbled as he stood, as he shucked his pants all the way off and stood, hands in front of him, waiting to be told what to do next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I absolutely refuse to wait,” she said, hauling him into a kiss and backing him into the living room, pulling him down on top of her on the couch. Now she slid her pants down, but they weren’t coming off unless the shoes came off, too, and they bunched around her ankles. Impatient, she lifted both legs together, granting him access. “Come on, I want you to fuck me good, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air was cool on his well-warmed ass, making his skin prickle all over. He eyed the crop, abandoned on the floor, like—he could take more. Wanted more, even. But what he really wanted was to give Maria what </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted; he could ask for anything else later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smoothing his hands up the outsides of her legs, TK came in handy again as he summoned himself a condom and rolled it on, giving himself a few strokes with one hand, stroking his other thumb down her vulva and to her slit, feeling the wetness pooled there, rolling it slowly against her clit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How d’you want it?” he asked huskily. “What’s good for you tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, mmm,” Maria moaned, pulling her knees to her chest. She saw him eye the crop, and held out her hand until he TK’d it over to her, too. “How about this: I’ll tell you to go faster or slower with this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Maria bit his ear and smacked him with the crop, throwing her legs over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unh,” he grunted at both bites, bending forward, hands braced against her sides, sliding in slowly, settling only for a second before starting up a nice, steady rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Maria said, getting used to him for only a few moments before she swatted him, reaching down to finger her clit, imagining it was Guerin’s tongue (why couldn’t aliens be flexible enough, or have long enough tongues or dicks to fuck you and lick you out at the same time, huh?) “You’re too nice, baby. Harder.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, he thought about slowing down just so she would hit him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no, no, he wanted to make her feel good, so he sped up obediently, stroking in and out and, head tipped back, gasping at her hot and clenching around him, the perfect feel of her body. He held onto her hips with shaky hands, the only way he really felt grounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, good, good,” Maria said, continuing to tap him with the crop so he would keep up the pace. Maria knew nothing about how to ride a horse, and what riding crops even did, but it looked nothing like this in the movies. She moaned, rolling her fingers around her clit. She was plenty wet, and and Michael was so hot—like, during sex his cock was always </span>
  <em>
    <span>so hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it helped her relax, like a heating pad radiating her from the inside out. She groaned. “Okay, Michael, I’m almost—you better not beat me there, I’m—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She switched hands, wondering why she was touching herself with her left hand for this long, and she barely managed a few swats with the crop before she came, clenching and gushing, willing him to go faster, and then slow down for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he did, slumping over her even as he wrapped an arm around her lower back to lift her a little, just enough to press their bodies together, thrusts slowing down to not overwhelm her, to draw the moment of his own release out, moaning low into her ear, kissing her neck and shoulder and anywhere he could reach, until his hips jumped a few times and he came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right away, each little sting she’d given him from the crop buzzed into the foreground, and he made a little noise as his skin shuddered, and he chased that noise with a laugh, giddy with sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” he breathed, laughing again. “Damn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria laughed, breathless, and kissed him. "Did you come, baby? Or is nothing but my stripper heels gonna do it for you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I came,” he said, pulling out and ditching the condom. Then he hitched her knees back up around his waist, grinning as she dug her heel into his back playfully. “But the shoes definitely helped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria cackled, kissing him again, feeling warm and safe and satisfied in his arms. "Alright, well help me take my pants off at least. I'll leave the shoes on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna walk in them, or want me to carry you to bed?” Michael asked, watching her through half-closed sleepy eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can walk in these!” Maria grumped, kicking her pants to the floor. What a pair they made like this, she thought, both of them half-dressed. She wrapped her legs around him properly now. “Let’s just stay here a minute. Was it the suit or the crop that got you there, huh? I need to do that again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to walk in them, not if you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I know better than to doubt you,” Michael teased. Resting his hands on her hips again, he added, “The suit got me in the mood, but the crop is a classic. You can do it to me whenever you want, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria was giddy, petting his hair and laughing uncontrollably. "Oh, sweetheart, you've got a deal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally got herself under control, she rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe you should let me walk to the bedroom. I want to get a look at that bottom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted again, trying not to laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you haven’t done worse to it,” he snarked back but only as he stood, stretching so she could watch his back flex, and starting off down the hall to her bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mm, hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave," Maria said, leaving her suit to wrinkle on the couch, wearing nothing but the stripper heels as she followed him into the bedroom. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Sweet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Michael lay in bed, drifting in the early morning dozy haze. Beside him, Maria’s smooth back rose and fell with her breathing as she slept on. He could scoot closer, cuddle up, scatter kisses across her sleep-warm skin...but he didn’t, and let her sleep. A bubble of contentment floated in his chest, and he cradled it, unwilling to let it pop too soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria woke with a groan, sensing Michael was up already. Damn energizer bunny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not supposed to be up yet," she grumbled. She was not a morning person, and so, crawled on top of Michael to pin him to the bed. He was too warm, and so she tossed the blankets off both of them. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm</span>
  </em>
  <span> making breakfast today. But not yet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? Something you wanna do before breakfast?” He teased. Being the morning person between them—and since breakfast was his most tried and true meal—breakfast was usually his domain, but watching Maria in the kitchen in her pajamas and slippers, hair wrapped up from the night before, being her assistant and stirring or chopping whatever she put in his hands...mornings in the kitchen were his favorite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Sleep," she said, tucking her face under his chin and psyching herself up to wake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She must have been a soothing presence for Michael, who dozed off again after a low chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Maria opened her eyes, but rather than getting up, she wriggled down his body. Michael liked to sleep in the nude, so it was no trouble to work a hand over his cock while he was still sleepy, and just as he was opening his eyes, lick the head and smile up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing his eyes, his hips arched up just a bit into her soft, hot hand, and he let out a soft moan. “M’ria?” he slurred, blinking down at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Don’t move, baby, I got you,” she said, rolling her tongue around the tip of his cock, working him with both fists, and slicking her fingers with spit just so she could finger-fuck him, too. Half-hard from pleasant dreams, it didn’t take long before he was putty in her hands. She moaned, swallowing him deep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nnn...uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael threw an arm over his eyes and rode through her ministrations with little gasps and twitches of pleasure, boneless and half-asleep, legs splayed open to give her all the access she wanted, completely and willingly at her mercy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maria!” he warned, so, so close to the edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let him come, made him come, coaxing it out of him gently, hands and mouth warm. She rubbed his thighs and hummed, as she took him down, and she even swallowed, but only because it was a special occasion (so she told herself). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wiping her mouth, she sat up on her elbows, beaming at him, at how cute and dazed he looked. She was awake enough now to mean it when she said, “Good morning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrnphlng,” he managed, still trying to coordinate his mouth into words after having his brain thoroughly melted. He grabbed for her, tugging her up to hold her against his chest, bending down to kiss her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kissed him, letting him taste himself on her mouth, and then smiled, biting her lip. “Give me a head start in there and I’ll have coffee ready for you, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or I can get going on the coffee while you start cooking,” he replied, bemused, “What’s the occasion, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you relax. It’s my turn to spoil you, even if I have to tie you to the bed,” Maria teased, kissing his chest as she got up. “We’ll call it…” she shrugged, so nonchalant about it as she pulled on her robe that rested at the foot of the bed—well, on the floor, now, kicked off with the covers—and put it on, “Happy Michael Day.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, she left for the kitchen, leaving Michael lazing in bed, for probably all of two minutes, but she could get started. She made coffee, and began to gather the ingredients for her mom’s famous blueberry-lemon pancakes that she had bought the weekend before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, Michael didn’t stay in bed for long, padding out to the kitchen in his shorts. He slid into one of the seats at the bar and leaned on his elbows, watching her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael Day?” he said. “What’d I do to get a Michael Day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, nothing,” Maria said, mixing her dry ingredients and praying for the coffee to brew faster. “I mean, it’s your birthday Thursday, but I figure you’ll spend it with your sibs, and we both have the day off today, so I thought we could do some stuff to celebrate it a little early.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coffee pot beeped, and she sighed and poured a mug for each of them. “But you don’t do anything to deserve Happy Michael Day. Except I guess spoil me all the time. So today it’s your turn to be spoiled.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slid a mug over to him, but watched him carefully for signs of his inability to sit there and do nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t spoil you,” he protested, summoning the cream and sugar and pouring it for Maria, just the right amount. He drank his black. “I—” But then he stopped himself, chewing on his lip, and said, “Uh. I mean. Uh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How to thank her for this, and how to not sound ungrateful? Michael didn’t know how to be taken care of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he said, not knowing what else to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you, too," Maria said, rounding the island to kiss him, and, taking pity on him, she said, "If you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do anything, you could cook the bacon?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye aye, Captain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tying an apron on and putting his hands to work on something let him unclench a little bit, let go the anxiety that sparked whenever he was sitting idle while other people worked. He only grew more cheerful, too, as breakfast smells filled the kitchen and the sun rose higher, surrounding them in light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the bacon was done and piled up on a plate, he leaned back against the counter and drank his coffee, watching Maria work on the pancakes with a soft smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that Mimi’s recipe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You bet. You can tell her all about their faults later today. She insists canned blueberries are the way to go and I'm like excuse me for wanting a fresh ingredient." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll be perfect,” Michael countered, kissing her temple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria grinned, scraping the bowl to make the last pancake. "I thought we might pick her up and all make you a birthday cake together. Maybe go do something? Putt Putt? Anyone ever take you putt-putting for your birthday before?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made us our own putt putt in the junkyard one year. I don’t think Isobel was impressed, but she played along. Mostly because she knew she’d kick our asses,” Michael laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You made one?" Maria asked, delighted at the thought, but a little sad that every good thing Michael ever had he gave to himself. "That's amazing! I bet it was awesome. Once again I'm wishing I wasn't a bitch in high school and we were friends."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was a little shit, too. I’d rather have you now.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A glow up for both of us, I guess.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "If you want to play a putt putt course someone else built, we can do that. Or we can go to the movies or, I dunno, plant shopping?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria braced herself for that one: Michael and Mimi both liked plant nurseries way more than she did, but she was willing to cowgirl up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we’ll drop in depending on how Mimi’s feeling,” Michael said. Maria’s front room got a lot of good sun in the morning, but bringing a plant in was nearly as resonant a step as adopting a pet together. Were they ready for that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Putt putt sounds great,” he added. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, good.” It was hard to get Guerin to express an opinion, so that was a step. At least he had been putt-putting before. There were a number of life experiences he was lacking that ended up being embarrassing on both their parts when she stumbled into them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just—deserved a lot better than he had gotten, and she was determined to fix that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She plated him three pancakes and four strips of bacon, and set syrup and butter in front of him before joining him on the island. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try ‘em without syrup first,” she suggested. “I think they’re pretty sweet already.” Also, approaching thirty wasn’t doing her any favors in regards to how much sugar she could eat at one sitting anymore, though she doubted Michael, who never even had allergies, had that problem.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He absolutely chowed down on the pancakes with plenty of butter and no syrup, stuffing his face in a way that would probably be gross if it weren’t so endearing to have someone eat something she made so enthusiastically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And...would you like to go line dancing with me and Liz and Rosa tonight?” Liz was back in Roswell, now, and the Ortecho sisters loved nothing more than a night out dancing, so they were the obvious ones to invite along without inviting, like, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole </span>
  </em>
  <span>gang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his mouth was empty, Michael said, “Line dancing is about all the dancing I can manage. No finger guns in line dancing, promise. But, uh...Rosa okay with that? Hanging out with me, I mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria jerked her head. “Rosa </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>you. You’re the only one who gets her sense of humor. A little dark and about ten years behind on memes.” She winked. “I think she’s forgiven you for making a bad decision when you were seventeen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just checking. Don’t wanna crash girls’ night with some bad memories or anything. I’m sure Michael will feel plenty appreciated by sundown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He better,” Maria said, rubbing his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on, how could you have made that shot?!” Maria cried, whacking Michael lightly in the arm and laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you he was going to make it,” Mimi said serenely, leaning against her putter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, we’re playing for actual holes, not how many times you guess who’s gonna make the shot,” Maria said, annoyed. She turned and jabbed a finger into Michael’s chest and lowered her voice: “And you! You better not be cheating.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? Cheat? Never,” Michael said, swinging his club up over his shoulders dramatically and winking at her. Then he offered his arm to Mimi to escort her to the next hole like some kind of gentleman or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he’s going to make the next one, too,” Mimi said. “I can feel it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re just lying because he’s being nice to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Self-fulfilling prophecy is a powerful thing,” Mimi replied, by way of concession. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria just laughed, suspecting Michael was just better at physics than her, from studying spaceships all his life. On the other hand, she could still beat him at pool sometimes, and she (usually) knew when he was using his powers to cheat (to win or lose). “Okay, fine, you go first, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mimi sat down on a nearby bench to count up the scores, giving Maria and Michael a little privacy. Enough for her to pinch his butt as he bent over to make his shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And sure enough, he jumped, sending his club all wobbly and sending the ball off to the side as Maria snickered. The ball came to rest at the feet of a giant blue hippo while Michael gave her a scandalized look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now </span>
  </em>
  <span>who’s the cheater?” He teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re not cheating you’re not trying,” Maria said, raising her hands quite innocently. “Anyway, you can recover from that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He can’t, actually,” Mimi said, staring at the scorecard. “I’m winning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mom</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mom’s a shark,” Michael said. He putted his ball out of the hippo’s grasp and into the hole with a dramatic sigh. “So much for my streak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hustle runs in the family,” Mimi shrugged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No wonder Michael fits right in,” Maria said, kissing his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael’s eyes went wide, following Maria like she’d lit the sun itself at that word—family, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> fitting into it. He still had to fight the urge to run before he could be left behind, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned over to kiss her back instead, resting their foreheads together for a moment, even if Mimi’s eyes on him made him a little self-conscious about it. Maria clung to him, utterly un-self-conscious about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, straightening up, he cleared his throat and said, “How many holes do we have left?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just this one and the next one,” Maria said, still hanging onto him. “You feeling like cake yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling like it or not, he’s getting cake. He’s too skinny, Maria,” Mimi said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria rolled her eyes, finally pushing Michael away to make his last shot. “I’m doin’ my best, Mama. He’s got good genes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mimi nodded and winked. “Czechoslovakian, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re getting cake, too, Mama DeLuca,” Michael said, trotting back over to wrap an arm around both of them. “You deserve it for bleeding us both dry on the green. Or whatever golfers say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria and Mimi laughed, but they didn't watch golf, either—they didn't know. Or care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left Roswell’s lone Putt Putt arena just before a gaggle of eleven year olds showed up for a birthday party, screaming and wild. Mimi and Maria each clung to one of Michael's arms, and they let him drive them back to Sunset Mesa—by way of the plant nursery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Later, Maria drove them to the dance hall, and as they waited on the curb for Liz and Rosa, Michael checked his reflection in the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure I shouldn’t have borrowed one of Max’s bolo ties?” he asked, smirking at her reflection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria rolled her eyes. "If I wanted to fight all the women and queer men in Roswell for you, maybe. Gonna have to beat them off with a stick as it is." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria dusted off Michael's shirt and straightened his hat, beaming at him as Rosa and Liz drove up in their dad's car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael swept his hat off his head and bowed deeply to them. “Ladies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rosa let out an extremely unladylike snort, while Liz just laughed loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a put upon thick Southern-belle drawl, Liz said, “Oh, Mr. Guerin, thank heavens you’re here to escort us, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>we do without your manly protection—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And in an equally thick fake accent, Michael replied, “Never you mind, Miss Ortecho, it is my solemn duty—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“UGH,” Rosa interrupted, seizing Maria’s arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross,” Maria laughed, tugging Michael’s arm. “Come on, I’m not paying you to talk. Just dance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Michael, what can I pay you to teach Max how to dance?” Liz asked seriously. “He’s hopeless. I had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>lie</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him about where we were going tonight, or he’d have wanted to come.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pay Maria. She taught me everything I know,” Michael said, bending over to kiss her cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rosa </span>
  <em>
    <span>ughed </span>
  </em>
  <span>again in the background, quieter this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Maria said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I guess he’s better than some of your exes, and I didn’t even meet the Chad. He still totally framed me for murder though,” Rosa growled, face hard until Michael cowered—and then she laughed. “I’m kidding, I’m over it. Just don’t do it again. But I’m over it. Seriously, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rosa, stop,” Liz said, smothering her, and ushering them all towards The Corral. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scout’s honor,” Michael swore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if you were ever a scout,” Liz laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I definitely wasn’t. I’m just using Max as collateral.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rosa found this hysterical, but in a weird way of finding the humor of people who were both younger and older than you funny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz and Maria just rolled their eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Corral was like the Pony—locals only, no alien schticks. None of them had been there in a long while, but Maria most recently, so she paid the cover charges without letting anyone argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liz and Rosa screamed onto the dance floor to some classic Selena—the Corral knew their audience and played to both salsa and line dancing types. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We can get a table and some drinks," Maria suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or we can dance...if you want to,” Michael said, rocking onto his toes to look over the crowd. “I wouldn’t be the only embarrassing white guy out there, looks like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>embarrassed by you,” Maria said, brow furrowing a little. She slung her tiny purse up her shoulder and led the way, pulling Michael along. “Come on. I only know the basic salsa steps, myself, anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was too loud on the dance floor to talk, really, but they found Liz and Rosa, who were trading who led and probably bickering about it. Maria turned to face Michael, eyes bright and expectant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael didn’t know how to salsa, but he did know how to take Maria’s hand and put his other arm around her waist, pulling their bodies close together and moving them in an approximation of to the music. He might not win any dancing contests, but he could make her smile, and that was all the victory he needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Maria did smile, mesmerized by him, amazed by all she was learning about him now that she had stopped trying to think she knew everything of note about him. No, he was full of surprises, most of them not even all that well hidden. She felt guilty for how much she had never </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked </span>
  </em>
  <span>before. And she had a feeling she was still just exploring the shallows, when there was a whole ocean of Michael Guerin still to discover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Placing his hands more firmly where they ought to be, and sticking her elbows out, Maria pointed down, showing him what his feet should really be doing. More a salsa shuffle than the actual steps, but something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just don’t look at the Ortechos!” she shouted over the music. The sisters were taking turns twirling each other, their footwork ever more fancy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a cheesy grin, Michael tugged her closer and took advantage of that clear opening: “I’m not looking anywhere but at you,” he shouted back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria glared at him and shook her head, but she was grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They danced until Liz and Rosa were thirsty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, I’m being responsible,” Rosa said, ordering a Mountain Dew. She had kindly agreed to be DD for the evening, a less anti-social reason than being a recovering alcoholic. “Plus, I hear old people can’t drink Mountain Dew without having a whole-ass sugar stroke or something, so I’m gonna enjoy this while I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maria, who was drinking a vodka water with a twist of lemon, glared at her. She fluttered her eyelashes back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mountain Dew is gross anyway,” Michael said. “That shit’s more radioactive-looking than pod goo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm, maybe that's why I like it," Rosa said. "Ten years just wasn't enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my God, Rosa," Liz said, only one shot in and rolling her Rs excessively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael, meanwhile, was mopping up the front of his shirt where he’d just spat whiskey all over himself, shooting Maria a sheepish grin. “Great, now I’m gonna get kicked out of bed for bringing your work home with me on a weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're gonna get kicked out of bed for drinking cheap whiskey," Maria said, ordering him something at least decent the next time, and kissing him after he took a sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, gross. I'm dancing or I'm gonna start drinking," Rosa said, getting up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now it was some Carrie Underwood remix, and people were lining up to dance. Maria squeezed Michael's bicep and finished her drink. "Shall we?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael took her hand and let himself be yanked out of his chair, bounding after her to the dance floor. Line dancing was definitely more his speed from his days on the ranch, and he got into it, really hamming it up at every opportunity, so much that Maria struggled not to break form completely by dying with laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Michael maybe didn't know was that he was good. The sultry hip moves made as a joke were actually so outrageous they came all the way back around to sexy. The way he tipped his hat was performance, but Maria was only a human woman and she was a little weak for the cowboy schtick. And his smile </span>
  <em>
    <span>lit</span>
  </em>
  <span> up the place, just a little nervous and all earnestness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two dances in, and Maria wanted to climb him like a tree. A stupid, sexy, tall drink of water, dark and handsome tree. She wanted a close encounter of the third kind with him, and a fourth, and a fifth with this smug alien. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She said something to this effect while pinning him against the bathroom wall and kissing him until she couldn't breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d I do now to deserve this?” he panted when they separated, and though his words were insecure, his wild grin was anything but. He hitched her leg up around his waist and bent to kiss her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The fact that you don't know is crazy," Maria panted, just grinding on him, too turned on in her head to worry too much about what her body wanted. Her body could wait. "I want to spend the rest of my life rewriting your code until you know your worth."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed his face and kissed him, pushing the hat back on his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doin’ a pretty good job already,” he murmured against her mouth, and then he said her name, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maria,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” just because it felt good for his lips and tongue to shape the word. After a day spent with her family, with her—their—friends, a day spent with</span>
  <em>
    <span> her, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d never felt more loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's go home, space cowboy," she said, and gave him a last lingering kiss. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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